Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

All that mattered was that Bucky was finally home safe.

It didn’t even matter that it wasn’t exactly clear what home meant any more for either of them. Steve would be home. Steve would make them a new home, now that he had Bucky back. In Brooklyn. In Stark Tower, or Avengers Tower or whatever the hell it was called now. In Wakanda, or Bucharest, or in Timbuktu if that was what Bucky wanted after everything he’d been through. A cabin in the Rocky Mountains. A cabin on the moon. Anything. Steve would design a rocket, homestead land, fell lumber, build shelter, plow fields, grow crops, stake out borders, defend territory — Steve would do anything to keep Bucky safe and protected and at home with him forever now that he finally, finally had him back.

He didn’t care that Bucky was different now. Steve knew that Bucky thought that it mattered. Bucky thought that Steve was hung up on the memory of Bucky Barnes, ladies’ man, amateur boxer, sometimes dock worker of Vinegar Hill, circa 1941.

That wasn’t true.

Yeah, Steve remembered that guy. Steve had loved that guy with all of his fuckin’ heart, from the smell of the Brylcreem in his hair to the shine on the brogues that he tied onto his well-turned feet to go out dancing on Saturday nights.

But Steve actually understood that that guy was lost to the ravages of history, along with his scrawny best friend in the suspenders with a chronic cough who picked fights he couldn’t win and scrambled to earn nickles drawing advertisements for local businesses.

That was what this new Bucky hadn’t figured out yet. That was okay. This guy had a lot on his mind. Seventy years of torture, trauma and brainwashing to work through, a new century — a new millennium! — to understand, a new life to build. It was enough that Bucky was here, with Steve, figuring it out. Eventually he’d figure out that Steve wasn’t the same Steve either, and that just because he remembered who Bucky used to be, didn’t mean he expected him to be that guy again.

Steve wasn’t stupid, or deluded — he was pretty sure that this current version of Bucky didn’t even really think of himself as Bucky anymore. Steve figured that that was fine. Bucky, now, called himself James, though he didn’t ask Steve to stop calling him Bucky, and was quiet, stoic, watchful.

He was different. Yeah, he was different. Steve didn’t mind that he was different. All Steve wanted was to take care of Bucky and be close to him, no matter who he was today or tomorrow or a hundred years from now.

It was confusing for James, figuring out who he was.

After all, in so many ways, people were what they wanted. Sure, they were their birthplaces and families and jobs and stuff too, but people were defined by their aspirations, their desires — because those were the things that drove them to do, to act.

James didn’t know what to do, how to act yet, because he’d spent seventy years being traumatically dissociated from his capacity to want anything. It was like a miracle, after that, and definitely a grade-A mindfuck, to be his own man again, obviously, but now it felt like Steve and Sam and Dr. Raynor and everyone was asking him what he wanted about a thousand goddamn times a minute. The one thing that he knew for absolutely certain that he wanted was for everyone to stop pestering him to have so many fucking preferences while he caught his breath just a little bit.

It was part of the reason that it turned out to be easier, in ways, to spend time with someone new, someone who hadn’t known Bucky Barnes, instead of just with Steve all of the time. He’d been nervous to try it, and heartened to find himself successful at developing a tentative friendship with the most interesting member of his support group, an auburn-haired dame who wore a lot of ratty sweaters and frayed jeans along with an expensive, seamless metal collar that she never referred to. She was in the group due to a fucked up thing she’d survived as a little kid, with a babysitter who was a teenaged boy — the little psycho had tortured and raped her for over a year and kept her quiet by threatening to do it to her brother instead if she told her parents.

He would have thought that the fact that she was a pretty dame would have been a problem. He certainly wasn’t ready to handle flirting, much less any degree of genuine attraction, but the awful way that they met sort of defused all of that. She had a strange forthrightness about her, combined with a nearly contemptuous disregard for the privileges of appearance. “Yeah, congratulations about your face,” she’d once sneered regarding the topic of being attractive. It was far removed from Bucky Barnes’ memories of the pretty girls who’d flirted with him as a handsome young man. The directness wound up putting the man who was still piecing himself together out of a brainwashed automaton at ease.

Well, mostly at ease. Sometimes it was a problem.

“Well, you seem to me like you have, I don’t know, a serious thing for Steve,” she told him over coffee one week after group, which was something that they’d started doing recently.

He sputtered at her over the rim of his cup. “What? When exactly is this seeming you’re talking about? You’ve never even met Steve,” he replied, outraged.

She tilted her head, studying him. “I know. I mean, the way that you talk about him. And act when you talk about him. For instance, right now.”

“I’m acting like this because that’s a stupid and wrong idea. I’m not queer for Steve.”

“It’s two-thousand fourteen. I’m sure someone’s explained to you that there’s nothing wrong with being queer.”

James frowned at her as he sipped his coffee.

“What? Has anyone? You do know that it’s okay now?”

He tapped gloved fingers on the tabletop and scanned the coffeeshop around them. “Look, it’s not that. I personally never gave a rat’s ass if a guy was a queer even in nineteen-forty. It’s just that Steve ain’t.”

It was her turn to frown.

“Do you actually know that?”

“Yeah. You must have read a history book. Steve had a — a thing with Peggy Carter.”

She looked at him like he wasn’t very bright. “I didn’t say that he didn’t have a thing with Peggy Carter. I just asked if you actually knew for a fact that he isn’t queer. Queer people can be bisexual, you know.”

Then she changed the subject.

Maybe it should have been strange, making friends with James Barnes. As far as Annie could tell, James had had plenty of people in his life treating him like he was some kind of freakshow for the past seventy years. He had probably started drifting her way after group for the same reason that anyone else would — he was lonely, and he could use a friend. So she just talked to him like he might be any regular guy who just happened to have been brainwashed into a killing machine.

The second week they got coffee together after group, they swapped phone numbers. A few weeks after that, mid-morning on Sunday, she received a text.

Hi Annie, this is James. Do you want to come over for Indian food & sci-fi movies this afternoon?

She had told him that it was her Sunday ritual, to unwind before going back to work on Monday. And he’d told her about his strategy of borrowing preferences from people that he liked around him — Steve Rogers, their friend Sam. It was a way to find things to try out while he was both learning and re-learning what he himself might like.

She agreed to the idea, which was how she found herself in a brownstone in Cobble Hill that James shared with Steve Rogers, contemplating mountains of tikka masala, vindaloo and naan piled up on their kitchen table while the earthy aromas of coriander and cumin permeated the air. She’d left her coat and shoes by the front door, and now she stood politely with her hands clasped behind her back.

She took a breath and turned toward him. “I’d like to tell you something, please.”

He froze for a moment in the act of carrying a few beers and ciders to the table. “Oh, yeah. Sure. What’s up?”

She smiled reassuringly at him. “You’ve invited me into your home.”

He put the bottles on the table and wiped his flesh palm on his jeans, returning her smile with a more restrained, crooked version. “Yeah. Wilson says that it’s a thing that normal people do.”

“He’s right; it is," she said. He was clearly nervous, but she thought that he was doing great. “But also, I wear someone’s collar.”

James went even more still at the turn in topic. “Yeah. I… uh, I’m a little behind the times. I wasn’t sure what that means.”

She took a deep breath. “My master died two years ago,” she said. “In a car accident.”

His eyes flickered up to meet hers. “I’m sorry.”

She inclined her head. “Thank you. I had belonged to him for quite a few years, so he’d planned for the circumstance.”

He fiddled with a bottle. “Oh?”

“Another dominant, a friend he trusted, has the key for this collar now. I asked for her permission to accept your invitation.”

That certainly got his attention — he turned and looked at her. “Huh. That’s interesting.”

“I know that it’s unusual,” she said. “And I do realize that you may not even have any intentions that make it relevent. But I thought that you ought to know.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, mulling that over. He sat down at the kitchen table, watching the way that she stood, waiting.

“Okay, so what’s all that mean then?” he asked. “You havin’ that gal’s permission to be here?”

“My keyholder gave me permission to accept your hospitality, which means that I also may accept your authority under your roof, within limits, if you want that.”

“Huh. Okay.” He finally popped the top from the bottle and took a drag. “What limits?”

“I’m not available for sex or for pain.”

He stared at her for a long time.

“You’re serious?” he said.

“Yes.”

“You’re telling me that you’ll do anything I tell you to, as long as I don’t have sex with you or hurt you?”

She nodded. “I am comfortable in service, but I’m not presuming anything about you, so it’s not necessary to make anything of it if it makes you uncomfortable. It’s perfectly possible to eat Indian food and watch classic science fiction without giving any orders at all. But we are becoming friends, and you asked me to come over to your house, and you had not yet asked me about my collar. So I’m telling you about the privilege that my collar confers on my friends, under their own roofs, if they care to take advantage of it.”

He stared at her for a long moment again, face blank. She waited, silent and still.

“Stand on one foot,” he said.

She smiled at him and picked foot up one foot and shifted her balance, prepared to stay there for a while. Neither of them laughed, and because of that it did not seem silly. He watched her stonily, and she was perfectly patient while he did. Certainly he could have done this for hours on end and they both knew it, but she could not. She figured that her balance wasn’t bad for a regular human — all that yoga paid off — but they both knew that she would sway eventually. The look on his face was — complicated.

“What will happen if I don’t tell you to stop?” he asked after a while.

“I’ll probably develop a cramp before I fall, in which case the limit that I stated around pain would release me from any duty to obedience before I failed,” she explained. “I would tell you first, if I could in time, so that you could release me from the order if you wanted to.”

He cleared his throat and shook his head. “Okay. Stop.”

She put her foot down.

He stood up and grabbed a plate and started loading it up with food. She watched this, then followed suit with more modest portions, and when he stalked into the living room she followed.

“Wilson said there was something called The Terminator that was good,” he said, picking up the remote.

She gave him a horrified look. “James. Terminator was nineteen-eighty-four. You stopped watching movies in the forties. We can’t start in the eighties. You’ll have missed forty years of dialogue between films, not to mention technical and craft development. Nothing will make sense. Someday you’re going to watch Army of Darkness and think that Klaatu Barada Necktie is just some dumb joke about Ash mispronouncing some random mystic words.”*

He looked bemused. “Okay?”

“The Day the Earth Stood Still was fifty-one and Forbidden Planet was fifty-six. Those are much more appropriate — we can start with them.”

He threw himself onto what she supposed to be his side of the couch. She chewed her lower lip for a moment, aware that he was troubled by her protocols, but that he needed time to process everything. It wouldn’t help to lie to him. She wasn’t allowed on furniture without permission and she didn’t want to goad him further at the moment by asking if he cared where she sat. She chose the most unobstructive spot in the room, between the two overstuffed leather couches, and folded herself to her knees to watch the movie from there. She was very well practiced at eating from a plate like this.

He wasn’t really eating anyway, was he? He was just pushing the food around on the plate, watching her out of the corner of his eye, before he abandoned his plate on the coffee table. 

Halfway through the first movie she startled when the front door unlocked and a heavy-footed human who she assumed must be Steve Rogers tromped down the front hall.

“Hey Stevie,” said James without looking up. “This is Annie, from group. Annie, Steve.”

“Oh, hey. Hi there,” Steve said. Jeez, he was another brick shithouse of a human being, standing there in the doorway. These guys were truly huge.

“Hi. It’s nice to meet you,” she responded like a normal person in spite of his enormous size. Even supersoldiers appreciated manners.

“There’s food in the kitchen,” James said.

Steve paused for a moment to finish taking in the scene — James’ abandoned plate, Annie kneeling on the floor. When he moved toward the kitchen, his tread was slower. He returned with a plate, which he then proceeded to plow his way through methodically, glancing between the two of them more than the unfolding drama with the alien trying to persuade world leaders to reason on the screen. She could feel James still stewing over the situation, and Steve’s piqued curiosity about what the fuck was happening in his living room.

When the first movie ended Steve gathered both of their plates with his own and carted them away. It was while he was out of the room and James was scrolling to locate the second movie that she’d deemed acceptable that he finally spoke again.

“Do you like orders?” he asked, without taking his eyes off of the screen.

She glanced over. He looked collected again. “Yes. From people I like.”

“Huh.”

Steve returned and James went quiet again. But he shifted on the couch, relaxing a little.

A few minutes into Forbidden Planet, he spoke.

“Annie?”

“Yes?”

“Take off your clothes and fold them and put them on the table.”

Steve turned and stared at James and then at Annie, blinking in shock, but James just continued to watch the movie. She bit her lip, and pulled off her sweater and folded it. She was blushing, but she didn’t hesitate to follow the order. She stood up, put her sweater on the table. Then she slipped out of her leggings, folding them and putting them on top of the sweater.

“Uh,” Steve said, apparently weirded out by the sight of her in her unmentionables, but he stopped there and she continued. She slipped off her bra and underwear and placed them onto the pile, and when James didn’t say anything else she put herself back into the spot she’d chosen in between the two couches and folded back down onto her knees.

“Thank you,” James said, still watching the movie.

“You’re welcome.”

“What’s happening?” said Steve.

“This other guy used the alien intellect enhancer, and he figured out that what’s wrong with it is that it creates monsters from the id, and he’s trying to warn the commander,” said James, like Steve had been asking about the movie.

That was it. He didn't ask Annie for anything else. He didn't look over at her once.

As the movie ended, Steve looked wide-eyed between James and Annie. James got up and headed to the kitchen, so Annie got up and followed him. He went to the sink where he started to run the water over their plates from earlier.

“May I take care of the dishes for you?” she asked.

He smirked down into the sink and shook his head. “I’ll wash, you dry.”

Steve had trailed into the room behind them, and kept watching them out of the corner of his eye as he gathered up the remains of the meal, put the leftovers in the fridge and the trash in the garbage.

They made quick work of the dishes together. “Thanks for having me over, James,” Annie said, hanging the dishtowel back on the rack. She said it conversationally, as if she wasn’t standing without a stitch on her in their kitchen on a Sunday evening while they were both still fully dressed. “And I’m glad that I finally got to meet you, Steve.”

“Uh, you too?” Steve said weakly, unable to meet her eyes.

“I guess you’d better get dressed then,” James told her mildly, finally looking at her.

She was blushing, but met his gaze levelly. “Okay.”

James didn’t follow her back into the living room right away, which gave her a couple of moments to get back in her clothes, reclaim her shoes and shrug into her coat.

He came and got the front door for her. “Text me when you’re home safe, okay?”

“Will do. See you at group on Wednesday.”

“See you.”

“So what was that?” Steve asked incredulously.

“What was what?”

“Bucky, what the hell? Your friend was naked!”

“Did it bother you? I thought you said that you saw it all on tour with those USO dames.”

“It’s not that! I did! It’s just — why was she naked?”

Bucky gave Steve a strange look. “I told her to take off her clothes. You heard.”

Steve blew out an exasperated breath. “Well, yeah. But why did she listen?”

Bucky shrugged and headed off in the direction of his bedroom. “She must have wanted to listen.”

Chapter Text

A week later, he told Steve, “I’m going to ask Annie to come over again tomorrow.”

“Okay.” There was a pause. “Hey, uh — do you want some privacy? I could, um, go somewhere. I could head over to the Tower. I’ve got some team stuff to go over with Tony.”

Bucky looked at him like he was being ridiculous. “It’s fine either way, Steve. You’re welcome to be here when Annie is here.”

Steve frowned. “I am? Even if — are you gonna tell her to take off her clothes again?”

“I’m thinking about it.”

Steve paused.

“But you don’t care if I’m here?” he said.

“No. We’re doing 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea and Journey to the Center of the Earth. You remember that year I made you read all of Jules Verne?”

The second time that Annie accepted James’ invitation for sci-fi and alarming quantities of food, Steve Rogers was already camped out in the living room when she arrived. He was ensconced in the wingback chair under the window, with a sketchbook in his lap and a pencil in his hand. Annie squinted at him, thinking that it had the look of a cover story to her eyes.

“Come into the kitchen with me,” James said, and his voice was even but those stunning pale eyes were fixed on her and she didn’t miss the fact that he phrased it very specifically as an order, not a suggestion or request. She gave him a pleased look as she followed him — yes, what I said last week still holds — and she noted his satisfied expression at the obedience.

So yes, he’d liked all of that last week. She might have been invited back for more movies, food and companionship, but she had also been invited back for more of this.

In the kitchen, there was an empty crate on the table beside the fragrant mountains of food. James put his right hand on it and gave her a mild look.

“Everything that you're wearing goes in here,” he said.

She looked down and blushed, but she began undressing without any hesitation. She removed each item and folded it neatly and handed it to him. He placed each one in the box.

“Thank you,” he said when they were done.

She bobbed her head, then peeked up at him.

His eyes were on her face. So careful to be a gentleman given his propensity for getting her naked. She was sure that it was more about the power than the sex... it wasn't such a surprise, given everything he'd been through, everything he'd said in group. He wasn't in any rush to date. But she'd given him a chance to have some control of access to a girl he liked, and that was indeed intriguing.

“Let’s get dinner," he said.

“Okay.”

She followed his lead, then back out to the living room. This time Steve kept his face blank when she walked out in the buff in spite of the blush that rose on his fair cheeks.

Huh. Steve was kind of into this too, in some way, wasn’t he? Into seeing her, or into seeing James exercising control over her? She was almost sure it wasn't the former.

James sat on the other side of the couch, on the end next to where she had put herself the previous week to kneel. She hesitated a moment, then went back to the same place.

The first movie passed much as it had the previous week, although she was relieved when James actually ate this time. After a few minutes Steve put down his sketchbook and disappeared and came back with his own heaping plate of food. Everyone worked through their respective portions, and Annie was pleased that both James and Steve seemed suitably enthralled to see Nemo and the Nautilus on screen.

When the movie ended, James told her, “Stay there,” as he picked up both of their plates and carried them away to the kitchen. Steve followed him with his own. She could faintly hear them talking in the kitchen.

She waited, hands on her bare thighs, aware that she really liked the increased number of orders that he seemed interested in giving her this time.  She felt a little warm and flushed, wondering if there was a reason that he’d told her to stay where she was, or if he’d simply wanted to give her the order — and sort of liking either scenario. She was also aware of Steve’s keen interest in the proceedings, and while she couldn’t exactly get a read on the nature of it, she was a hundred percent certain that she’d been right about her guess that “friendship” didn’t fully describe the nature of the bond between the two men.

They returned. Steve sat down and picked up his sketchpad and resumed sketching. James crossed his arms and looked at Annie consideringly.

“You should go to the bathroom now,” he said.

Her stomach clenched a little. Was that just because they were going to watch another movie? She pushed herself to her feet and scurried off to do as he suggested.

When she returned, James was holding a coil of rope in his hands. He was also wearing the thin leather driving gloves that he always wore to group and in public.

“Oh,” she said, which was not very eloquent.

“Come here,” James told her. Across the room, Steve sat forward.

Annie walked over to stand in front of James. He let out a slow breath and showed her the rope — it was bamboo or maybe jute, and looked fresh to her.

“No sex, and no pain,” James said.

Annie nodded.

“There is a reason I want to do this, and it’s not actually kinky.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “I mean, not exactly.”

She nodded again. “Okay. I trust you.”

He stared at her for a long moment, then shook his head slightly.

“Okay. Give me your wrists. Palms together.”

She did as he asked.

He tied her wrists together, passing several loops around them both and then cinching the loops in the middle. He checked that it was comfortable but inescapably snug, slipping two fingers under the ropes, then over her pulse on each side. Then he tied it off.

“Okay?”

She flexed her wrists. “Yes.”

He stepped back, and looked down. “I’m going to do your ankles the same way.”

She swallowed, aware how red her cheeks were. “Okay.”

He waited, like he thought that maybe she was going to change her mind, but she didn’t, so he knelt down and did as he said, tying her ankles together in the same fashion.

He stood up and stepped back and looked her over and nodded. “Yes,” he said, as if to himself.

She stood there in front of him in the ropes. She was aware that everything around them had sort of faded away now — he’d taken control of her, and that made him the center of the world.

James leaned over and carefully picked her up and placed her sitting upright on the couch.

She cleared her throat, pulling herself together a little, and arched an amused brow up at him. “I don’t mean to be crude, but you do realize that if you leave a naked woman on your couch for very long, there could be consequences for your upholstery.”

He looked surprised. “I suppose I’ll have to take my chances with that,” he said drily.

“No,” said Steve from across the room.

“Stevie —” James started.

“No, get a blanket, Buck. Annie will be more comfortable, too. Here, I’ll get it.” And Steve got up and walked away, down the hallway.

A moment later he reappeared with a plush, fuzzy blue blanket and brought it over to them. He carefully avoided looking down at Annie’s body as he held it out toward James expectantly.

James sighed. “Fine.”

He picked Annie back up, again being careful about where he put his hands as he lifted her, and Steve spread the blanket out over that whole side of the couch. When James placed her back down on it, it was luxuriously soft beneath her.

“Thank you,” she said politely to Steve, taking note of his ease with giving James orders and James’ willingness to accept them from Steve even when they clearly annoyed him. Steve nodded, and hesitated, then went back to his post on the far side of the room.

James looked down at her and took a deep breath. Then he sat down beside her.

Then he carefully, almost gingerly, maneuvered her until she was tucked against his side. She was on his right, opposite his prosthetic, and he tugged her gently into place without using his metal hand to assist the process. She quickly got the sense that this part of what he was doing was making him more nervous than getting her naked or tying her up had.

She looked up and realized that Steve was watching the process with stunned hunger on his face. That was what drove home what James was doing -- James didn’t touch people. Certainly not anyone in group, and he hadn’t started touching her yet as they were becoming friends, and suddenly she was willing to bet that he hadn’t yet resumed touching Steve either. Of course not. Not after everything he’d been through.

James had tied her up in order to work on his issue with touch with someone who was under his control.

Clever.

Also, pretty fucking hot.

Annie did her part to stay relaxed even as she realized what he was doing and also realized that it was absolutely starting to do it for her. Like many submissives, she liked bondage, and it certainly felt good to be snuggled into his big warm beefy body. She tried not to nuzzle into him, not wanting to spook him, but she did let herself go boneless and melt into his side. He’d probably like that.

After a moment, during which his big frame slowly relaxed a little bit under hers, he picked up the remote and started Journey to the Center of the Earth.

It was bliss, being stuck there, honestly. His arm was on the back of the couch, not quite on her shoulders, but he had her tucked in tight but comfortably against his side. Her cheek rested on the soft cotton of his dark blue henley, which was stretched across the massive barrel of his chest, and her side was warm from being pressed up against his flank. The leather of his belt was a rough, biting contrast — even the denim of his jeans wrapped around his thigh felt delicious against her bare, exposed skin, all of the sensation heightened by the helplessness of being bound and trapped.

She knew that she was drifting deep into subspace, to the point that the movie was nothing but hazy fuzz in the background — were they to the volcano in Iceland yet? All that she could think about was how incredible it felt to be bound by him and then used by him the way that he wanted.

At one point, she felt a gloved finger chuck her gently under the chin, lifting it slightly so that he could see her face.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

“S’nice,” she heard herself slur, wiggling, barely, against him.

His lips curved, maybe, just a hair.

Time passed like molasses while she floated, luxuriating in being treated like a doll by the fearsome Winter Soldier. When she came back to herself, she had been resituated into the corner of the couch, and James was kneeling in front of her, untying the knots and unwinding the ropes that had bound her. Embarrassingly, she heard herself whine in protest, and this time she was certain that she saw him smile.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he said, and the pet name didn’t help her with getting less gooey inside. “I have to untie you so you can go home.”

“S’okay,” she made herself say.

Tug, tug, yank, and the last knot was free. He rubbed her wrists lightly with his flesh fingers — he was still wearing the gloves on both of his hands.

“That really does it for you, huh? You need to come in the kitchen. I’m gonna put a little pie and coffee in you to get your blood sugar up before I let you go home, okay?”

“Okay.”

James helped her to her feet, slowly, and lead her to the kitchen. Steve watched them go, his gaze still avid with interest.

He had her re-dress first, a process that took a surprisingly long time. She was almost sure that he was holding himself back from just doing it for her. Instead he handed her each item of clothing out of the box and waited while she fumbled it onto her body with clumsy fingers.

Then he sat her at the kitchen table. A moment later the promised food was placed in front of her and a fork was pressed into her hand.

The heat of the coffee helped a bit. The sweetness of the first bite cleared her head further. He watched her eat the first several bites before he said anything else.

“Shouldn’t you hate being trussed up like that after what happened to you as a kid?”

She paused, fork in the air, and looked at him.

“Well, y’know. It’s the old cliche.”

James snorted. “Well, pretend I don’t know the old cliche about this particular topic.”

She laughed. “Okay.” She ate her bite of pie, chewed it while she considered. “A big part of it is about getting something for myself out of something that was just supposed to fuck up my life. Eroticizing it, as they say.”

He looked thoughtful. “Someone says that? Okay.” He paused. “What’s the rest of it?”

She worked through a little more pie while she found the words. He watched the process closely.

“It’s like — I have enough power in my regular life," she explained slowly. "Enough responsibility. Enough to often feel burdened by the weight of it. So for me, it winds up feeling amazing to give it up, to someone who I know I can trust. It’s relief, even elation, not oppression.”

After that pronouncement he watched her finish the pie. Neither of them seemed to have anything else to say, but the mood was easy and intimate.

“You should walk Annie home,” said Steve from the doorway. “See that she gets there safe.”

Annie was much more clear-headed after the sugar and caffeine. “Oh! No, thank you,” she said. “That’s such a kind offer, but it’s not necessary. I’m absolutely good to get myself home now.”

“Annie,” Steve said sternly. Both Annie and James turned and looked over at the sharpness of his tone. “Bucky will walk you home,” he said.

She looked over at James, who looked bemused, and gave her a little shrug.

Annie was quiet, and then looked at Steve seriously.

“Yes, Steve. I understand. Thank you,” she said.

The following week, James was beginning to feel more confident in Annie’s motivations in whatever-the-hell-you-called-what-was-happening-here. Something about the combination of her declaration of trust in him when he’d revealed his intent to tie her up, and then seeing the dopey, compliant state that being helpless in his care had actually elicited from her — up until then, he hadn’t been sure that this wasn’t some sort of elaborate prank that she was playing on him for some reason. But no, apparently this really was how some girls wanted to be courted these days. Or were willing to be courted. Or this girl, anyway.

Honestly, it was more appealing to him than most of what he’d seen of modern “courtship” so far. Annie had looked him in the eye and told him what the rules were and what he was allowed to do. She’d even answered why when he asked. The structure that she’d presented was, as far as he could tell, formal and explicit to an atypical degree in this age of “hanging out” and “getting to know each other.”

James definitely didn’t want to ‘hang out’ with anyone — it sounded terrifying to try to figure that out. Frankly, he wasn’t even sure about basics like touching any more. What if he had a flashback? What if he panicked and injured someone when he was trying to get close to them? But when she’d given him permission to think about whether there was a way to go about it that wouldn’t freak him out so much — a way to be in control of the whole thing without being a monster or hurting someone — it was like the idea had lit a fire in his mind.

Not just in his mind. But definitely in his mind.

And then, on top of all of that, with her, there was still the Steve issue.

Steve. Sitting there with his sketchbook, with a pencil in those talented hands, with that pretty, watchful gaze, same as he had since he’d been a snot-nosed whelp, always observing the situation unfold — right up until the moment when he threw a fucking bomb into the middle of it.

Steve. Not always saying much, not until he said too much, but clearly affected by what he was seeing.

Steve was clearly affected by watching James figuring out how to touch someone again. How to be close to someone again. James knew that it wasn’t just because Steve was happy for him as a friend.

James knew that Annie hadn’t been wrong, all the way back there at the beginning when she had called him out on his feelings for Steve over coffee. And even though Steve had been trying to play it cool, James was pretty fucking sure that, regardless of whether that obsession was sexual or not, he and Steve Rogers were both obsessed with one another — and had been for a century now.

The weird thing with Annie — the fact that it had worked, was working — it had James’ mind working about a million miles a minute with the possibilities. He liked her directness and, frankly, her strangeness — at least he wasn’t the only freak here. She was obedient and attractive, and his traumatized, dysregulated body didn’t go haywire when he kept her under careful control and she wasn’t even freaked out by him doing that — she liked it. Hell, she’d demonstrably liked that sort of thing before him, and she obviously liked him. He wasn’t assaulting her, or taking advantage of her. She was like a safe, willing human toy.

So on the following Sunday James took the blanket that Steve had brought them last week and laundered it and spread it across the couch. He picked out a second blanket that was equally plush and folded it on the coffee table.

Steve did a double-take when he came home from his run in the afternoon. James felt a swell of satisfaction when Steve blushed and immediately disappeared into his bedroom, trying not to look visibly excited. Steve emerged a while later, showered and with his hair neatly combed, in his best shirt, and arranged his notebook and pencils on the sideboard under the window. James ordered and laid out dinner, and the crate for Annie’s clothes, which he put by the front door this time.

Annie, for her part, showed up exactly on time, just like the previous weeks. When James let her in, she hung her coat and bag on the rack by the front door and toed off her shoes, just like the previous weeks. Then she spotted the milk crate and glanced at him. She saw him watching her, and she took a breath and simply continued undressing.

He felt something inside of him unknot. She still wasn’t fucking with him with all of this.

He waited until she was down to her underwear to bring up what he wanted to ask about.

“Your keyholder,” he said.

She glanced up at him through her lashes as she pulled off her bra.

“Deja,” she said.

James nodded. “If you need her permission to be here, then she definitely gets a report every time you come over?”

Annie nodded as she stepped out of her underwear. “Yes.”

“And?”

“She thinks that you’ve been cautious with me so far. She worries about me a great deal, even though she trusts me, so she has been appreciative of your caution.”

James seemed to find this comment bemusing as he looked from her naked body to the crate that contained all of her possessions. “This is cautious, is it?”

Annie gave him a look. “Do you know what most men would have attempted by now in the same situation?”

The question seemed to strike him, and he touched her arm, gently. He wasn’t wearing gloves, and it was the first contact between them skin-to-skin, and it stopped her short. She peered up at him.

“I know this might sound funny,” James said, “but — I guess all of my examples aren’t really normal? I feel like… maybe I don’t know what most men would try. I can imagine what Stevie might try, which is funny. And I sure as shit know what some psychopath from Hydra would do. And here I am, trying to figure out what I want to do when you’re offering me this… gift.”

She glanced from his face down to his hand on her arm and back up. “Well,” she said, “most men would have pushed one of the limits I told you by now in some way.”

He frowned. “Really?”

The expression on her face was affectionate. “Yeah. Really.”

“Huh.” James found himself glad that she told him this. It helped him understand why she liked him, maybe.

He took her into the kitchen and avidly watched her portion out her fill of tikka masala, her favorite, and palak paneer — he was starting to figure out that feeding her first was actually part of what he wanted out of this, satisfying some primal urge. Steve also portioned out his mountain of carbohydrates and protein, part of the courting ritual and a practical necessity for supersoldier metabolism. James went last, exchanging a meaningful glance with Steve as they followed the nude girl into the living room for — what twentieth century sci-fi classic were they going to pretend to watch tonight?

Honestly, who even cared?

James waited through the whole first movie, whatever the hell it was. Like last week, they all needed fuel, and then to digest some of it. And then to hit the head before the second movie started. It was funny, how much harder his heart was hammering in his chest this time.

“Come here,” he said to her, and she obeyed him, with a shy, excited smile that made him consider the real possibility that tonight might work.

He didn’t need to explain himself this time, as he carefully, methodically bound her wrists and her ankles. Steve was watching the process like a hawk. Here they were — this was his chance, exactly like he’d planned.

James took a steadying breath. With his gloved right hand gently holding the bound Annie in place, he turned and looked at Steve.

“Come here,” he said to Steve, looking him in the eye.

Steve, Irish pale on a good day, went as white as the paper in his sketchbook. He put it aside with trembling hands, and stood and walked toward them.

James, perhaps with a bit of strategic consultation from soldat, had mapped all of this out. There were two ways this could go. If he told Steve to sit down next, Steve would definitely do it — Steve Rogers had been gamely accepting directions from Bucky Barnes since 1927. There was practically no risk in that choice. And it would get him closer to his goal.

But if instead he asked for what he really wanted, he would be tipping his hand, well past the point of plausible deniability.

James marshaled all of his courage.

“Take off your shirt, Stevie, then sit down here,” he said to Steve.

Steve’s cheeks went pink, but to his credit, he only hesitated for a moment. Then his hands were moving — he unbuttoned the stupid shirt and discarded it with gratifying efficiency. He was wearing an undershirt, stretched across astonishing pecs, which was fine — James had expected and planned for that. Steve sat down on the end of the couch.

James carefully picked Annie up and sat down right next to Steve, nestling her into the space between them. Steve figured out what he wanted immediately. He tugged Annie’s bound legs so that they could comfortably situate her sideways across them — her legs in Steve’s lap, her torso cradled by James. She wiggled a bit, making herself comfortable. James took the second blanket and spread it over them.

Once everyone was settled, he started the second movie.

It was — it was a lot. It only worked because both of them, both Annie and Steve, seemed aware that this was not actually easy for him.

Getting Annie naked and bound and putting her right up against his clothed body last week had been a lot too, but he’d been flying high with the realization of what he could do, how he could make use of this strange and unexpected gift she offered. And yeah, she’d been naked, all of that alabaster skin under his control, under his hands had been a rush, but he’d been covered, safe, his gloves had been on, he hadn’t really been touching her. That was part of why it had worked.

And he was still doing the same thing, but he’d taken the risk of getting Steve’s shirt off — never mind his chest, although James absolutely minded his chest, but those fucking shoulders destroyed his ability to think and they were right there. And now there was all of Annie’s exposed skin, under his control, bound the way he wanted, and now her pretty skin was pressed against Steve’s hard body and James had been the one to orchestrate that. They’d let him do that.

They’d do other things, too, if he told them to.

It was funny, how time dilated while Phileas Fogg raced around the world and James sat there with Annie in his lap, Steve warm beside him, both of them breathing steadily — the blood rushing in his ears the whole time.

He was in charge of the girl. She was willingly naked, vulnerable, helpless, bound. Steve was beside him, would do what he asked, what he needed, just like always. The girl was something to take care of. Something they could play with.

Something they could take care of together.

Something that could play with together, if they wanted.

James had put Steve and the girl on his left side this time. The girl was in their laps, not snugged in under his arm this time, and Steve was the person on earth with the least reason to be afraid of his prosthetic. And James had wanted to touch her this time.

Just her shoulder, under the blanket. Her warm, soft shoulder. Eventually, he stroked her arm. He was wearing the gloves. He could see Steve’s hand resting on her calf. Petting gently. Steve’s hands were bare, like a normal person. He was touching Annie right now, because of what James had orchestrated.

James was so fucking hard.

It was okay. Annie wouldn’t mind, he knew. He had no intentions of getting his dick anywhere near her. Part of what was working about all of this was that he didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to, and he didn’t have to explain himself, and he was pretty sure that she understood exactly that.

Eventually Fogg pulled off his bet on a technicality and the movie ended. James was disappointed. He sat up, wrapping the blanket around Annie, picking her up, and depositing her fully in Steve’s lap as he knelt to the floor before them. He unpeeled the blanket from her enough to find her limbs.

“Noo,” she protested, cutely in James’ opinion.

Steve was cradling her, brushing her hair back like all of this was normal now. “She really likes this stuff, huh?” he said.

James paused, holding her bound wrists. “Yeah. Hey. Next week, I want to tie you up first, and then feed you.”

Her gaze, fixed on his face, sharpened. “You do?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I, uh, you know — I want more. More control.” He paused. “No sex, no pain.”

She nodded, seriously, which maybe should have seemed comical given her position but wasn’t. “Okay.”

“Okay.” He started untying her, carefully. The corner of his mouth quirked up. “So I was thinking, maybe something more finger-friendly than Indian.”

She huffed in amusement.

He freed her, but then Steve stood up with a grin with her still in his arms and carried her into the kitchen.

“Sugar and coffee, then Bucky can walk you home,” Steve announced.

Halfway through the pie, she perked up and smiled up at them.

“I like sushi, and charcuterie,” she said.

Chapter Text

DB: Hi James, this is Deja. Do you have time for a cup of coffee before group on Wednesday?

JBB: For you, of course. How does Jumpin’ Java at 6 sound?

DB: Perfect. See you there.

James had had a pretty fucking strange life for the first hundred years so far, but he had never had coffee with his submissive’s keyholder before.

He was pretty sure that it was fair to refer to Annie as his submissive at this point. Just this week he’d started to think about whether they were coming due for some kind of conversation about that sort of thing. If so, it was probably his job to bring it up. Given that, it didn’t come as a complete surprise when Deja reached out to him.

James had been reading up about this stuff for a few weeks now, and he’d figured out that Annie was unusual even by the standards of the wider BDSM community. Collars seemed to be common enough, but they could be anything from practical bondage to fashion accessories to wedding ring equivalents — for Annie, it was clearly something like that last case. But the kind of structured formality that she operated under did not seem to be widespread, and was part of what he liked about her — it had a clarity that appealed to him deeply, that reassured the parts of his brain that were trained for strict protocols now whether he liked it or not. 

Deja showed up exactly on time — James liked that aspect of BDSM culture so far, or maybe he’d just been lucky with the two kinky people he’d met. But when a gorgeous, raven-haired woman with sparkling eyes wearing dark professional clothes walked up to James’ table with a latte and seated herself, the only thing that outwardly marked her as unusual was a dozen piercings all the way up her left ear. They were filled with small silver studs and hoops, and in the context of the rest of her appearance, they looked elegant even to his old-fashioned eye.

She gave him a warm smile and shook his hand. “It’s really nice to meet you,” she said. There was no weird territorial vibe, and he felt his shoulders relaxing a bit.

Since she was turning out to be so nice, James tried to think of it as a good opportunity to practice his rusty social skills. He imagined that Sam Wilson was watching encouragingly from the next table over, and managed to excavate for her a version of Bucky Barnes’ smile.

“I admit I wasn’t sure what to expect here,” he told her, trying to let the right amount of nerves show through. “Though I figure it’s fair for you to want to size me up a bit.”

She nodded, still smiling. “Sure. I think we should be honest with each other. But it’s really just about confirming what Annie’s already told me. I have every reason to trust her judgment.”

James nodded. “So you’ve generally known her to have a good head on her shoulders.”

She gave a small, wry shrug. “Well, to say ‘always’ would be a bit of a stretch. I’ve known her for decades now. We all have foolish moments and blind spots, don’t we?”

That was true. “I hope what she’s doing with me is not either of those.”

She gave him a curious, searching look. “With you and Steve Rogers?”

James scoffed, good-naturedly. “You don’t have to worry about that. Everyone knows they can trust Steve. They’ve literally built a national institution out of his integrity. They even wrote him a song about it.”

“That’s true. So does Steve Rogers live up to his song? How’s it go: ‘stalwart and true’?”

“Don’t forget steady. It’s a stupid song, but the embarrassing truth is that the guy lives up to the sentiment… but he can’t talk to a dame or lindy hop to save his life.”

She nodded, amused. Then she let a little silence stretch out, studying him.

James waited her out. She had something on her mind other than checking him out, didn’t she? Something about Annie.

Deja sighed and looked out the window while they both drank coffee.

“I think it’s time for me to remove the collar that Annie is wearing,” she said.

Oh.

James considered that. “Because of me?”

“Not exactly. More because she was ready to say yes when you asked her to come over.”

James nodded slowly. “You know, I have been reading up. Educating myself, I guess. I don’t think I’m exactly in a place to do something like that for Annie myself.”

Deja gave him a sad, understanding smile. “I don’t think you should be, and I don’t think that Annie should be in any hurry either. When her master died, it was abrupt, and we didn’t know it was coming. Afterwards she was a mess, and she wasn’t ready to just suddenly be her own person again, which is why he and I had discussed this contingency. But she’s perfectly capable of it now.” She paused, then added, “Even if she grumbles about it.”

James tapped his fingers on his mug. “Okay. That’s good.”

Deja watched him.

“But —” he said.

“Yes?” She looked amused.

“Well.” James hesitated. “I guess I like that her collar keeps anyone else from sniffin’ around her, you know?”

She arched a sculpted brow at him. “Well. That is one of the reasons why we use them.”

The ‘we’ there caught him off guard. He realized that she was finding his whole situation entertaining.

“Okay, now, wait a second,” he said, deciding that since she’d taken care of Annie that he could take the risk of trying a little openness with her, like Sam and Raynor were always prattling on about. “You just said that you agreed that I shouldn’t put another collar on her. Now you’re laughing at me `cause I’m not.”

She leaned forward. “Hey, I’m sorry, James. I’m not really laughing at you — I know this is all new to you and I think you’ve been finding your way quite nicely so far.”

She paused. “Okay. Annie is currently wearing an eternity collar — it symbolizes that she was owned by another person who was responsible for her in every way. I don’t think that either of you are in a place for that in your lives right now, and I don’t even have any idea if that’s something that you’d even be interested in in the future. Right?”

“Yes. Right.” James exhaled.

“Okay, good. We’re on the same page then. And so is Annie, I can assure you.”

“That’s good,” he said.

Wait. Was part of him a little disappointed that Annie wasn’t entertaining romantic fantasies of truly belonging to him? Maybe to them?

Nah. No. That would be way too much, too fast.

“Good,” Deja echoed. “But… it sounds like you are feeling a little bit territorial. So you’re not interested in seeing Annie explore this kind of connection with anyone else in her life right now?”

“Fuck no,” he snapped, then felt a little taken aback at himself.

“Oh I see!” Deja looked delighted. “In that case, perhaps you should consider offering her something. A collar doesn’t have to symbolize ownership, you know. It can just mean someone is spoken for, as you point out. In which case, one usually considers something a little less over-engineered and ostentatious than what she’s in now. Tiffany makes a lovely padlock pendant if one wishes for plausible deniability and has the necessary dough, but many people prefer the practicality of a chain. Obviously there’s a range of possibilities in between.”

“Huh. And that wouldn’t be… forward?”

“Well.” Deja sat back and finished her latte. “I guess if I’m finally relinquishing Annie’s key, then that means that I’m going to have to leave that for you and her to figure out. But my best guess, based on what she’s said to me about the situation so far? No, that probably would not be forward, not at this point. And not if you’d like her to reserve her submissive, uh, affections for yourself, or yourself and Steve. However that works.”

“Huh. I guess I gotta do some thinkin’ about that then.”

“Well, you have my number now, James. Like I said, I do know that all of this is new to you. I hope that you’ll feel free to use me as a sounding board, going forward, if you need one. I’d be happy to give you the best advice that I can.”

James took a deep breath. Part of him was wondering if he was getting in over his head here, but then he thought about that last Sunday with Annie — her helpless, naked body cradled between him and Steve. The fact that she’d been so square with him so far, which was the only reason that things had progressed this far. The promise of everything that he might be able to make happen if he was willing to trust that she really was what she said that she was — what she genuinely seemed to be so far.

He looked over at the woman across from him, the woman who was responsible for the collar that that girl was wearing, the woman that that girl apparently entrusted with her life — the way that he trusted Stevie.

“Can I tell you something?” he said, abruptly.

She paused, and her expression softened.

“Yeah, sure. Of course.”

James took a breath. 

“I didn’t see any of this coming. I actually thought I was just inviting her over for, you know.” He chuckled wryly. “Jules Verne. And, uh, tikka masala.” 

He paused, and looked away, looking thoughtful. “I woulda been real happy with those. Those things, they would have been gifts to me, in my state, after everything, you know? Remembering how much I always loved science fiction. Finding out about Indian food, and everything else from around the world that you can get now at the push of a button, but Indian food — fuck, that’s delicious.” He paused. “Having a friend other than Steve.”

Deja was listening closely. “And then… Annie,” she continued for him. “All soft and sweet and on her knees, looking up at you with these big brown eyes, right? Eager to let you do whatever you want. Kinda fucks with the head a little bit, doesn’t it? Especially if you’re not entirely sure what you want yet, but you know that some of it is definitely fucked up.”

James stared at her, expression shuttered in a way that he was sure made clear how close to home her words had hit, and she just smiled.

“Hey, I get it,” she said. “I mean, any dom worth their while would get that part. Submissives put all this trust in us, and they’re vulnerable people, aren’t they? It kind of boggles the mind.”

“It does.” He paused. “It does, but… subspace, I guess they call it? The way it makes her all dumb and sweet? A girl like that?”

Deja nodded, dark eyes catching the bright overhead lights of the cafe.

“That part is so fucking different from anything I felt. So I know that what I’m doing with her isn’t actually the same thing as what they did to me.” 

She smiled at him, and tipped her empty cup his way.

“You’re doing just fine, James,” she said.

Chapter Text

It was the fourth Sunday in a row that James had invited Annie over. At this point she would have been surprised not to receive the invitation. She also had more than a suspicion that her keyholder, Deja, had had some sort of conversation with James early in the week, before telling Annie that she had decided that it was time to remove Annie’s master’s collar. And the truth be told, Annie wasn’t really surprised by that decision either.

It was obvious, wasn’t it. Annie wasn’t dumb. She became pretty dumb, when she was neatly tied up in James Barnes’ ropes and tucked under his arm or cuddled up in his lap, wrapped in fuzzy blankets, going into subspace while he practiced touching her.

The truth was, it was a very sad night for Annie when Deja put her on her knees and removed the collar that Annie was wearing, then pulled her to feet and hugged her while she cried. There was a great deal of cuddling and comfort that came afterwards until Annie fell into a deep, exhausted sleep. Deja put the collar into a pretty box and gave it to Annie as a keepsake.

But it was also true that it felt right that Sunday, when she showed up at the brownstone in Cobble Hill with a bare throat. James greeted her at the door, and while his eyes were drawn to the unbroken expanse of pale skin above the neckline of her sweater, there wasn’t a hint of surprise. Annie sighed affectionately. He’d definitely had some kind of talk with Deja.

Doms were all control freaks. But it was hard to complain about it when it was kind of in the job description.

The box for Annie’s clothes was by the front door. She hung up her coat and bag on the rack, then continued undressing. James was watching her openly this time, and while the look on his face wasn’t exactly lustful, he did look — satisfied. Pleased, even. Like the cat that got the cream. Like he was becoming less guarded about enjoying all of this.

She liked it.

“I have something for you,” James said, eyes following her hands. “A gift.”

She stepped out of her panties, folded them, and put them into the box. “That wasn’t necessary,” she said, smiling up at him. “You already feed me every week.”

He scoffed. “You barely eat next to us. But just wait until you see the, uh, charcuterie board that Stevie put together for today.”

He took her hand — she felt herself blush — and led her into the living room, where low music was playing — old jazz, Duke Ellington she thought. There, true to his word, a beautiful polished board waited in the middle of the coffee table, overspilling with bread, crackers, fancy meats, cheeses and fruit. Steve sat in his place under the northern window where the light was good, sketching, but he looked up with a welcoming grin.

“Hi, honey,” he said.

“Hello, Steve,” she responded politely, her eyes fixing on what waited on the coffee table beside the charcuterie board, and Steve chuckled.

Four cuffs, in soft brown leather, were laid out on the table beside dinner, with a matching collar. They were small but beautifully crafted, immaculately stitched, lined with suede, with multiple d-ring attachments. She glanced up at James, who looked nervous, chewing on his lower lip as he watched her reaction.

“They’re just for play," he said. "I ain’t gettin’ ahead of myself, okay?”

“Okay,” she breathed, moving closer, entranced, her hand reaching toward them but not touching them. “They’re beautiful.”

She heard Steve made a satisfied noise from across the room.

“You think so?” James said. “I know black is more traditional. But I thought that these would look real nice with your coloring.”

Steve coughed.

“Steve and I thought that,” James amended.

She was gazing up at him, wringing her hands lightly.

“Oh, James, I love them. They’re absolutely gorgeous. Thank you.” She looked at Steve. “And thank you.”

James picked up the smaller set up of matched cuffs. “Here. I’d like you to handle them first. Get familiar with them.”

He handed her one of the cuffs, which she examined closely. She tested the suppleness and flex of the leather, worked the buckle, examined the textures of the outer leather and inner suede. Then she handed it back.

He gave her the match — she was no less thorough for the fact that it was identical to the first one that she’d examined.

Then they went through the same ritual with each one of the set of larger cuffs. These were a little sturdier, but with the same exquisite crafting, the same soft give to the leather, the same polished buckles that moved smoothly.

Finally he handed her the collar. Annie smiled as she ran her hands over it, examined it, buckled and unbuckled it. She looked up to find James watching her closely.

“You okay?” he asked.

She nodded firmly. “I am. This is okay. This collar is from you, for when we play — I like that it’s fresh. Not one that you’ve used for play with lots of subs. That feels good.”

He curled his lip. “Do people do that?”

She shrugged, looking amused. “It’s not really insulting, for a play collar. Leather is expensive, you know.”

“Okay,” he said, sounding like he didn’t think that was really okay at all. “But — it might just be a play collar, Annie, but I got it for you.” He glanced over at Steve, who had given up on sketching and was watching them openly, and who now raised a pointed eyebrow at him. “Well, I got it for you with Steve’s helpful but overbearing advice.” Steve coughed. “Fine, we got it for you. The point is, no one else has worn it and no one else will.”

She blushed. “Okay. Thank you.”

She took a deep breath and handed it back to him, peering up at him through her lashes as she did. He searched her expression, and nodded gently, gesturing toward the floor — yes.

Annie sank to her knees in front of him. Across the room, she heard Steve sit forward in his chair.

She raised her arms, gathering her hair up off of her neck at the back of her head, then held it there — chin slightly raised, elbows turned out, throat exposed, spine straight.

James didn’t move right away. She was sure that she’d read him right though — she looked up through her lashes again and he was staring down at her.

Oh. The look on his face was the furthest thing from displeased.

He looked — stricken. Amazed. Nearly reverent.

After a long, silent moment, James finally spoke, his voice raspy. “Everything in me that was forced to kneel against my will wants to ask you if you’re sure about this. Everything in me that sees who you obviously are isn’t going to insult you like that.”

What a sweetheart he was, the big scary Winter Soldier. Annie smiled up at him, pleased. Novice submissives didn’t always understand the power of showing their doms their pleasure and approval, but Annie was no novice.

“Please, sir?” she said, sweetly, happy to lay it on thick for him, to show him just how much she wanted this.

Both James and Steve across the room drew sharp breaths. James’ eyes dilated, but his expression went tight. He liked something about the honorific — but he wasn’t sure about it.

“Or — maybe daddy?” she tried instead. “Did the assholes in Hydra make you call them daddy?”

He moved forward and crouched down and peered into her face, collar in his left hand, and wrapped his gloved right hand around her throat. He hadn’t really touched her like this before, when she’d been wearing someone else’s collar. It felt good, his hand around her throat. Cool smooth leather, firm touch, gentle grip holding her. A little constrictive. Careful but precise — such control. His breath was warm on her face.

“Do you want this, sweetheart?” he asked softly. “This collar? Right here, around your pretty throat?”

“Yes, please,” she begged. “I want it so much.”

He released her throat, and pushed a few stray hairs back off of her forehead with gentle fingers. Then he buckled the collar around her neck. It was snug, the suede interior soft against her skin, but not constrictive. It felt radically different than the cool metal of the eternity collar that she’d worn for so many years — different material, different weight, different symbolism. It was okay. She was breathing hard, but because she liked it, not because she didn’t.

“Thank you,” she sighed.

He stared into her eyes, then kissed her forehead.

“You know,” he said thoughtfully as he stood up, “daddy is what plenty of dames called their fellas back when Stevie and I were comin’ up.”

“Yeah? Does that feel right — daddy? Familiar?” she asked sweetly.

“Maybe,” he growled. “Give me your wrists.”

Annie did as he ordered.

The cuffs were buckled onto her — the soft suede against her skin, the clink of the buckle — and then he was kneeling behind her, buckling the larger set of cuffs onto her ankles.

She was already going into subspace — he had her wrists again and was clipping them together behind her, and then he just sort of picked her up and moved her and put her down on the floor in between his spread knees where he was sitting on the couch.

Oh. It was — it was lovely, being there. She was on her knees. Restrained. She was enveloped by his huge, superhuman body, protected by the cage of his long legs, her torso cradled between his thighs.

He took a deep breath, staring down at her with bright eyes.

“I — I want to take my gloves off, to feed you. I’ll use both hands to prepare food, but only my real hand to give it to you. And then I’m going to put my gloves back after we eat, before I touch you in any other way. But — I’m going to let you see my metal hand. Is that okay with you?”

That was probably the longest single statement she’d ever heard from him, in or out of group. He was really worried about freaking her out with this.

She gave him an easy smile. “Of course. It doesn’t bother me.”

He cocked an eyebrow skeptically, but he tugged off the leather gloves. From her vantage point on the floor between his feet, watching him do this was actually pretty hot, and she knew that she was staring open-mouthed, and possibly even squirming a little. Both of his hands were actually beautiful in different ways, the flesh one with its long elegant fingers and the metal one with its breathtaking articulation and engineering. She could only hope that she wasn’t actually drooling.

Her reaction got her another, even more skeptical look as he placed the gloves on the table. Then he reached past her and started stacking some brie and prosciutto on a slice of sourdough baguette.

“I want to pick for you, but I don’t want you to eat anything you don’t want,” he told her. “If you don’t like something, you should decline it. Okay?”

“Yes, daddy,” she said obediently, and flushed warmly as the corners of his pretty mouth turned up in pleasure. He raised the little morsel that he’d assembled to her mouth, which she opened obediently, sticking her tongue out just enough to receive it as she looked up into his eyes.

It was… it was surprisingly sexy to watch, Steve was realizing.

He didn’t really have any particular kinks around this that he knew of. It was mostly just that he had one very serious Bucky Barnes kink, and right now apparently Bucky Barnes was into hand-feeding this pretty girl. So there you go: now Steve had a new kink for watching Bucky Barnes hand-feeding pretty girls.

He’d accumulated a lot of real specific kinks like that over the years.

For a while Steve just watched the show, trying to stay quiet and unobtrusive. Bucky’s long, sure fingers — the contrasting textures of the creamy cheeses and porous breads and preserved meats — and then Annie’s pretty wet mouth, opening obediently for whatever Bucky decided to give her. It was erotic, and way that both Annie and Bucky reacted whenever his fingers brushed against her lips or tongue cinched the fact that this was foreplay for both of them.

Bucky was very into this — he was carefully pacing his offerings of food, and lifting sips of iced tea to her lips. Sometimes he would indicate something and raise an eyebrow to check with her — more of this? thirsty? — so he wasn’t entirely guessing. But Steve recalled his words to her of the previous week — “I want more. More control.”

But Bucky wasn’t checking with her about everything, just at intervals. So it was clear that there was something about deciding for her, about controlling her nourishment, that was seriously doing something for him. Which meant that now there was something about watching him do that that was seriously doing it for Steve.

Part of what impressed Steve as he observed the process was how in-tune with each other the two of them had been getting as they played through the iterations of this deepening power game. It was something that he himself had only ever experienced in combat with Bucky at his six, the whole deadly world around them narrowed to a certain set of choices and their shared understanding of the consequences of those choices. Steve could see that part of the appeal here was that kind of focus, that kind of intimacy, but without the dire fucking circumstances.

It was hot. Like, really hot. Little wonder that Steve had to reach down and adjust himself after only the first couple of minutes.

“Stevie, come over here and eat with us,” Bucky said. For the first time Annie had lowered her chin at an offering, declining it, and Bucky popped whatever combination he’d assembled into his own mouth instead. “You spent half the day on this,” he said, looking over at Steve and chewing, a little rudely, with a grin. For a second he was channeling his sixteen-year-old self.

Jeez. Even that was hot. “Yeah, for you and Annie,” Steve said a little weakly, feeling like he was absolutely giving away the fact that he was getting off on watching them, getting off on the fact that Bucky was feeding her from the food that he, Steve, had arranged for them.

“For all of us,” Bucky corrected. “Now come sit beside us,” he said.

Did he sound… flirtatious? Was he flirting with Steve, openly?

Steve hesitated. Unlike when he’d been kids, prodded by Bucky to come participate because Bucky had set him up with some unenthusiastic dame, Steve was being invited in now. Not invited to pretend, alongside, unwanted.

He tried to adjust himself, again, unobtrusively as he crossed the room to them and sat down on the couch beside Bucky — who immediately handed him the little pile of bread and cheese and meat that he’d just assembled.

Steve, bemused, accepted it before he even really had a chance to think about what was happening — Bucky feeding him, the way that he was feeding Annie. But it wasn’t exactly the same, was it? Bucky was taking care of him, yes, like he was taking care of Annie. That was who Bucky was, who he’d always been for all of his life — Steve’s best friend who’d nursed him through all of those bouts of pneumonia whether he’d liked it or not, a big brother to all of those feisty little girls. It was the very heart of what was so perverse about what Hydra had done to him.

So he fed Steve so that Steve would be taken care of, but it was an act of profound love and respect. He fed Annie as an act of loving control and micromanagement — she was putty in his hands, giving herself over, and Steve couldn’t be sure from where he was but he would have bet a year of his SHIELD salary that Bucky was just as hard as Steve was right now.

Maybe they were all perverts. Yeah? Yeah.

Maybe that was just fine with Steve.

He had them both eating out of his hands now. Literally.

He was almost having a hard time handling it — this much control, over both of them. But at the same time, he knew that it was the only reason that this was working. Knowing that he was in charge — that neither of them was going to surprise him. Annie was pretty far into subspace now, and he was starting to understand how to put her even further under.

Steve — with Steve, it was more complicated. Steve had always been his north star, back when he’d been Bucky Barnes and now that he was James. Steve was his guiding light, his CO, even his handler when he’d needed him to be — his end of the line. Maybe Bucky had had all the swagger, but Steve had been the one who went out and became a god damned superhero.

Steve’s fingers — one of the few parts of him so unchanged by the serum — brushed James’, repeatedly, accepting each little offering of bread and cheese and meat as James assembled them and offered them to him, in between the ones that he hand-fed to Annie and the occasional one that he popped into his own mouth. He’d remembered feeding Steve a lot when he’d been sick, when they’d been kids.

James’ need to take care of each of them, in different ways, overrode his drive to meet his own needs, but it was clear that Annie was growing sated there in her place at his feet — he didn’t want to overfeed her. So he offered increasingly more of the little morsels to Steve, who accepted them with molten looks, with appreciation, but who definitely would also want James to eat, himself.

And James, well, he wanted them all of them nourished for what he wanted to come next.

Annie was gazing up at them, soft and sweet and patient, wearing the collar and cuffs that James and Steve had picked out, that James had given her under Steve’s eye and then put on her. James and Steve had both fed their supersoldier metabolisms earlier in the day, so James didn’t feel the need to keep her there for an hour while they worked their way through a mountain of food that had to be assembled. He did want to leave her down there for a while, though, just to stew in all of her strange submissive juices.

Steve was now sitting just as close to his charcuterie board as James was — he could have reached over and grabbed some food for himself at any time, but he waited for James to give it to him.

They were both waiting on James. Watching James. Ready to give James whatever he asked for.

He sat back a bit and looked at them. Steve raised a brow at him, with a bit of a smirk, and also shifted back.

They were done with the food part of the ritual.

James put his foot on the coffee table and pushed it smoothly away from them, snagging his gloves from the surface at the same time. Annie perked up, pushing fully up onto her knees again, her clipped-together wrists behind her back.

James tugged his gloves back onto his mismatched hands, savoring the way that Annie’s eyes were fixed on the act. He could act like he didn’t understand why she wanted to kneel at his feet, but he’d encountered enough of the fetishization of the Winter Soldier to know that the danger that he presented was sexy for many people.

What got him about Annie, though, was the fact that she’d gotten to know him — and then, then she’d still chosen to trust him. She hadn’t just thrown herself at him impulsively like the weirdos on the internet seemed to want to. That was why he was so hard right now. He sat forward, looking down at her. Steve, beside him, sat up attentively.

Her eyes were wide and fixed on him, her wet lips parted with anticipation. He felt like he was the center of her universe right now, and it made his cock throb. He remembered that feeling of absolute fixation, like a ghost that still haunted his nervous system, but for him it had been a horrific experience driven by fear and trauma. The idea that now he was on the other side of it… but that for her it was driven by adoration and trust — and, and lust, actual desire?

He licked his lips. He’d thought about this a great deal since his conversation with Deja, and he knew where they needed to start.

“You had some very specific limits when we started,” he said.

She gazed up at him. “I did, I know.”

“Pain and sex were both off-limits.”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

He took his time, searching her expression. She looked nervous, but he saw nothing discouraging. Nothing off-putting.

So he forged on: “A lot has changed since then.”

“A lot,” she agreed.

Steve was silent beside them. James could hear his silence clear as a bell.

“So... are both of those things still off-limits now?” James asked.

She hesitated, licking her lips. “N-no,” she said.

He felt a flicker of a grin cross his face, but suppressed it. “N-no?” he mimicked, reaching out with his flesh hand and touching her chin. Her lashes fluttered at the contact, then she looked up at him again. “Are you sure about that answer?” He kept his voice gentle.

She smiled shyly. “I am sure. It’s just scary,” she said, voice firmer.

James smiled back. “Okay. I can work with that,” he said, and she shuddered.

Steve was still and silent, but James wasn’t forgetting him sitting there as witness to this for a single second.

James took a deep breath and knew it was time to let both of them — all of them — off of the hook a little bit.

“Well,” he said, “obviously I’m nowhere near ready for anything like sex. I think we’d probably all agree about that. Wouldn’t we?”

She blushed in a way that made it clear that it probably wasn’t exactly like the idea had never crossed her mind, but she nodded up at him easily. Steve’s hand moved to James’ lower back and settled there, still and unremarked.

James took a deep breath. “But — I do want to touch you, a little more now — with my hands, for now — if you’re ready for that. Are you?”

She swallowed. “Yes. You can touch me however you like.” Her voice was thick.

He allowed himself to wallow in that for a moment. The permission. Her body, to touch however he wanted.

Except, he still wanted to know — he centered himself.

“That’s good. I like that. But… what about pain, sweetheart?” he asked carefully. He paused, watching her pupils dilate. “Do you like pain?”

The truth was, her eyes had already just told him the answer.

“Yeah,” she breathed, heart rate picking up, respiration harder. “I do.”

James nodded. “Hm. I thought maybe so,” he said, keeping his voice mild.

She flushed.

“Why do you like it?” he asked, making it sound like a passing curiosity. Nothing strange here.

If anything, her cheeks got even redder, and she dropped her gaze like she was embarrassed. “I — I guess I like the proof. The proof that I’m really submitting?”

He studied her for a long moment, until she started to squirm, until she glanced up from under her lashes at him self-consciously. Steve was like a statue beside him, the palm of his hand still warm on his lower back.

“So, then, have you thought about me hurting you?” James asked Annie, softly.

She chewed on her lower lip and nodded.

James made a thoughtful little hum. Her cheeks were flaming now.

He reached out with a gloved hand and traced her jaw, gently, slowly.

“I think I might enjoy hurting you, sweetheart. Seeing the proof of how deep your desire to submit to me goes.”

She groaned softly, lashes fluttering again. His fingers moved gently back down her jaw, then over her chin, and up to her lips.

“I bet you’re even prettier when you’re in pain,” he said.

She started to shake, then, and the look that she gave him was wretched.

He huffed in wry amusement.

“Look at you,” he said, thumb tracing her lip. Her tongue darted out to chase after it, and the corners of his mouth curled as he pulled it away from her, denying her.

“No, no,” he said. “It’s clear that you’re gagging for this, baby. I like it, but you’re in no shape to negotiate about changes in your limits, are you?”

She froze, staring up at him, and then actually looked chagrined.

“Oh,” she said, crestfallen. “Uh — no, I — I'm not.”

James chuckled, his hand cupping the side of her face. Her regret was almost instantly forgotten as she leaned into his touch, eyes closing.

“It’s okay, baby,” he reassured her. “I’m the one who put you in bondage and on your knees. So we’re just gonna take things real slow today, like we have been, and we’ve got Stevie here to keep an eye on us, right?”

Her whole body relaxed at those words. James heard an audible hum from beside him — Steve would like the show of trust in him.

“Yes, James,” she said hazily. Then, blinking up at him a bit — “Yes, daddy?”

James smiled down at her. “That’s right, sweetheart. I think you got it. When you’re in this collar, or feeling sweet and subby, you can call me your daddy. And Steve — sir, for him, I think, just like you’d expect. You got that?”

“Yes, daddy,” she said, trusting eyes wide open and fixed on him now. “I understand.”

“My good girl,” he said, stroking her chin. “Now, here’s what I’d like to do today. I do want to hurt you — just a little bit — so I can start seeing how you take it. Then I want to see you get off. What do you think of that as a plan?”

She squirmed, and panted, lips parted. “Okay,” she agreed.

He nodded, pleased.

“Good. Now —” He looked her over. “I was thinking of putting you over my knee for a spanking. Nice and simple, right? Do you like being spanked, little sub?”

She swayed forward, toward him. “I’d like being spanked by you, daddy,” she said breathily, and Steve chuckled.

James exchanged a glance with him, and while Steve definitely looked amused, he also looked hot as hell and like he was trying to play it cool.

James found himself smirking at him. “What about you, pal? You look like you want to see me spank this little girl.”

Steve shrugged. “You know I like watching you doing anything sexy with an eager dame, Buck.”

That was like a shot of confidence straight to the blood stream. “That’s right, ain’t it?” James drawled. “You always have.”

“Uh-huh.” Steve had spots of color on his cheeks, but he was refusing to look ashamed about it.

James turned his attention back to the girl. “All right. Come up here, honey. This way,” he said, gesturing toward Steve. “I want your pretty head on Stevie’s knee.”

Annie got to her feet, and Steve shifted forward beside James so that when he pulled her over his lap, her cheek was resting on Steve’s thigh, her feet dangling off the other side of James’ lap. Her cuffed hands rested in the small of her back. Steve gathered up her hair and pulled it to one side so that he could see her profile.

James had arranged them so that his gloved right hand — not the metal one — would be over her bare ass, and he rested it on the lower curve of her ass now. The metal one he rested on her upper back. Steve cradled her skull, stroking her hair gently.

He let the moment stretch out. He wanted to enjoy the anticipation — he could feel the vibration in her body, that she wanted to squirm, but was forcing herself to stillness, to patience, to wait for him like a good girl. But he was also settling himself. Breathing in the scent of her so close. Feeling her body — and Steve’s, too, beside him, thigh pressed along his own, running hotter than an unenhanced human and hotter than the little thing spread across their laps — feeling both of them so close to him, and reassuring himself that he was in control of himself, that no blood or terror was about to come, that he could make these choices and have them be good choices.

Steve leaned into him, barely perceptibly, reassuringly, just his shoulder pressing into James’ as if he could read his mind.

James squeezed Annie’s ass lightly, and she sighed. He remembered this, distantly — a warm ass under his hand. A willing woman. Slowly, he stroked her, learning her topography. Her breathing deepened, and she shifted under his touch.

Maybe it should have been strange, that the idea of spanking a willing dame felt exciting and manageable while the idea of fucking her was still a downright terrifying thought. He stroked the inner curves of her pretty cheeks, eying the hint of the the visible pucker of her pretty hole between them, aware of the heat of her slick cunt nestled between her thighs, only a few inches from where his fingers were trailing over her smooth flesh. His cock definitely throbbed at the thought of those, of entry inside of her. But he wasn’t at all sure whether his control would hold through something like that —

This, however — this he felt sure of, and this also made his cock throb in his jeans. Annie was making breathy little noises now, and he decided that he’d teased her — teased all of them — enough.

He ran his left hand up her spine, spanned it across the back of her neck and took a hold of her there. Then he put his right hand flat across her bottom and she whimpered, pushing up into it.

“It’s time to see how you do, taking a little pain for me, sweetheart," he told her.

“Please,” she blurted, needily. Steve huffed in amusement.

James started in on her. It was a small fraction of his enhanced strength, obviously, and also he wanted to start relatively easy, and go slow. For both of their sakes.

But he had been getting to know this girl for a little while now, and he was pretty sure that he didn’t want to start too easy.

Jesus. James began to spank her firmly right over her sit-spot, back and forth on either side, the impact vibrating through the anatomical structures of her pelvis directly to her aching pussy and clit, and she wondered abruptly if she was going to get into trouble if she wound up orgasming accidentally during this.

Because — because this was fucking amazing. Annie moaned like a slut against Steve’s huge, hard thigh, aware that she was probably drooling on his jeans already. It only hurt a little at first, the delicious sting of his leather glove against her skin, the thud of the hand beneath it against the meat of her ass — just enough to not be insulting, really. But the thing was that he set up a steady rhythm, and then he kept at it. Over and over. The tissue became tender under the onslaught, growing pink, and warm, and then red as Annie moaned and started to squirm.

James shifted his left hand, down between her shoulder blades, pressing down lightly to pin her. Ooh, that was hot — she heard an embarrassing squeak of arousal escape her at the move, and felt her hips start to grind under James’ hand. Steve was holding her head on his knee with one of his hands, stroking her hair with the other. The hand that had been cradling the side of her face shifted a bit and — oh.

Two warm, uncalloused fingers pressed gently at the seam of her lips. She opened, and they slid wetly into her mouth, over her tongue, withdrawing, then pushing back in, a filthy mimicry of fucking.

She groaned around the intrusion and began to suck. She felt his body shift beneath her and vaguely registered him grunting softly and felt a stab of triumph at getting a reaction out of Steve Rogers, actual Captain fuckin’ America, and then —

Fuck. James was still beating her ass, relentless. He still wasn’t hitting her hard, per se, it was just that he’d been at her for a little while now, and she was pretty sure that the bottom quadrants of her ass were probably starting to bruise a little.

The thought was like a lightning bolt from her feverish brain to her sopping wet cunt, and for a moment she thought that the next few blows might be enough to push her into coming. Oh, god, she was gonna have bruises. His bruises. She was almost sure of it. Tomorrow, she’d be able to look over her shoulder in the mirror and see the evidence of what he’d done —

“Daddy,” she gasped around Steve’s fingers, arching on their laps. Steve withdrew his saliva-slicked fingers from her mouth as she blurted — “I might come, I’m gonna come — it hurts too good!”

James paused, hand raised. Annie continued to flop on their laps like a fucking fish for a moment, gasping, before she managed to calm herself down and settle back into her previous position.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” she mumbled, embarrassed.

“Shh, it’s okay, sweetheart,” James said, settling his hand on her ass again. She groaned at the contact, and he gently kneaded the probably red, mottled flesh. “I didn’t really say you couldn’t come yet, did I?”

“S’bad manners,” she sniffed pathetically.

James and Steve both chuckled.

James continued to knead and stroke her, waiting for her breathing to even out.

“You really do like pain,” James said thoughtfully.

“Mhm,” she murmured, nuzzling Steve’s thigh as James’ metal hand traveled up and down her spine.

James mused,“If I let you get your hand between your legs, you could get off nice and hard while I spanked you, here on our laps, sucking Steve’s fingers, couldn’t you?”

Her breathing, which had slowed, sped right back up. “Yeah. Yeah I could, easy.”

He unclipped her cuffs. “Go ahead, honey. I wanna see that.”

She did as he ordered, getting her hand wedged between her pelvis and his thigh, getting her fingers where she needed them to get the pressure just right and —

Fuck — Was he hitting her harder this time? Fuck — Steve slid his fingers back into her mouth, and she felt the familiar wave of whatever-it-was hot-relaxed-pliant that washed over her whenever she sucked on a dom’s fingers like this. Fuck. Fuck, that was so good — she, wildly she decided that probably James wasn’t really hitting her harder, it was just that she was already a little bruised from before and — fuck, this was only gonna, take, like a minute — fuck.

Fuck, this was good. She was squirming on his lap, fingers rubbing frantically through the slick, orgasm coiling in her body faster than she could have predicted, suckling Steve’s fingers wantonly. Fuck. She wondered what it’d be like if James was hitting her with the other hand, the metal — fuck, that was probably a stupidly self-destructive idea. Fuck, she was gonna fuckin’ come any fuckin sec — fuck.

He’d told her what he wanted of her so she didn’t stop to ask for permission in the moment, she just let it happen. The thought fleetingly occurred — oh fuck, this is gonna be a huge fuckin’ orgasm — and that meant that it might be embarrassing but then it didn’t matter because her brain fucking supernovaed, her nervous system was struck by all the lightning at once and pleasure and pain took her over like a million tidal waves — someone was screaming — daddy was still holding her down and spanking her and she was thrashing, wasn’t she, and screaming at them and laughing and still thrashing and begging and screaming — what was she even saying? — she should probably stop thrashing — and were they both laughing now too?

It was all a little dramatic.

And then, then, after all of that, came the aftershocks. Fuck. She was still pretty insensate for the first few but then she was groggily trying to figure out what the fuck had resulted from all that thrashing and shrieking — they were all three on the floor now, in a sort of puppy pile, and Steve and James had, oopsie, managed to wind up in a fairly intimate embrace with Annie trapped in a little space between their tangle of long supersoldier limbs. Their foreheads were pressed together above her and they were both grinning and still huffing with the remnants of laughter every time they exchanged glances.

“What’s so funny?” she slurred.

“You’re a little demon when you get off,” James told her, smirking.

She snorted. “Aren’t you both literally superhuman? I didn’t actually pull you two to the floor. This just looks like an excuse to get handsy with each other to me.”

So many coherent words took a lot of effort. She was elated when it made them both blush at once.

“No excuses needed,” Steve said firmly in spite of his red cheeks. “Bucky knows he can grapple me any time he wants to.”

James smiled at Steve a little mushily.

“Any way he wants to,” Steve added, with a determined look in his eye.

James’ blush intensified, but he didn’t break eye contact. “Well, yeah,” he said. “I think you proved that pretty definitively once on a helicarrier, pal.”

“I think I did,” Steve agreed.

Annie wasn’t sure that she exactly knew what they were talking about, but she was pretty sure that she got the gist of it. She snuggled into them. These two were so into each other it kind of hurt to watch.

James took a breath, hesitating. His eyes flickered to Annie, who was partially recovered now and watching them raptly, feeling tender. There was something that surprised her in James’ expression — a flicker of curiosity — maybe even of an ember of desire still burning.

The desire that he brought to life in her immediately rekindled —  or maybe she wasn’t sure the orgasm, cataclysmic as it had been, had ever truly extinguished it. What did he want? What was he thinking? Did it have something to do with Steve… and her?

His eyes were back on Steve now, his expression thoughtful.

“What is it?” Steve asked softly, baby blue eyes blazing as he stared at James. “What do you want?”

James dropped his gaze for a moment, then raised it again. “You know I can’t…” He trailed off and bit his lip. “You know I ain’t ready. Ain’t gonna be ready.” He hesitated. “Maybe not for a long time.”

Steve kept his gaze steady, and shrugged one shoulder. “It’s fine, pal. I ain’t in a hurry. You know I’ll be right here.”

James sighed, still chewing that lip. Annie was practically holding her breath.

“Well, maybe I am kinda in a hurry,” he said. “I mean, it’s been eighty years. It sucks to still be waitin’, only cause of me.”

Steve just shrugged again, still looking patient.

James eyes darted to Annie again and back. Steve’s followed, and he met Annie’s eyes.

Annie grinned up at Steve, getting it. Steve’s eyes widened, a beat behind her.

Annie grinned over at James, who was looking at her again.

“What do you think about a blowjob, daddy?” she asked impishly. “Do you think you’d like watching me give Steve a nice, slow, sloppy cinematic blowjob for you?”

James shifted, literally adjusting himself in his jeans, and looked at Steve. Annie followed his gaze, and Steve was staring at James, noticing how turned on James was getting, and, yeah, the two of them were getting a kind of feedback loop going now, weren’t they? Because now Steve looked like he was suddenly sporting more than a mouthful in his Levi's 501s.

“Stevie?” James said, voice raspy.

“You’d like that? Seeing that?” Steve asked. His voice was also deeper now. Sheesh. Annie was getting wet again.

Well, wetter.

Oh, she was willing to push for this.

“You’d get to watch Steve’s huge gorgeous cock getting worked over," she said. "You’d get to see how pretty his face looked as he came down my throat.” She went all in, painting the picture for James.

Well fuck, now she was getting invested. Steve did seem like he’d have a really nice cock. And she might not get to suck James’ for a while, given everything.

James attention snapped fully to her, steel blue eyes bright and pale. “You want to do this?”

“Please, please let me do this for you, daddy?” she begged shamelessly. “I want to suck Steve’s cock for you. I’ll do it any way you want me to.”

James looked away from them both, taking a slow breath, and then decided.

“Steve, get it out and sit down. Annie, get on your knees.”

They both moved quickly to obey, while James disentangled himself from them and seated himself nearby to watch. In only a few seconds Annie found herself faced with the intimidating challenge of Steve Roger’s massive and (as predicted) truly beautiful cock, fisted in his oversized supersoldier hand. He was both girthy and long, a match to his massive physique. He had a wide, pale shaft with a huge vein on the underside, and a swollen, shiny plum-colored head. Annie swallowed.

“Did you ever get a suckjob during your USO days, Stevie?” James asked, his accent going more old-school Brooklyn than usual. Annie struggled not to smile at that, or at the idea of Captain America getting it on during his USO tour — had it been the showgirls, or his adoring fans, she wondered? Maybe both?

“One or two,” Steve said, blushing as he looked down at Annie seriously.

“How about Carter?” James asked.

That question made Steve crack a grin at him. “Ah, Buck. You know that the, uh, ‘servicing’ went in the other direction with Peg.”

James snorted. Annie decided then and there that she would have liked Peggy Carter, and that she might have to begin incorporating her into some of her personal fantasies forthwith.

“Have you ever had your dick sucked by a man?” James asked next, voice going deeper.

Steve cleared his throat. “Uh. Yeah. That wasn’t, actually —  impossible to come by, in our neighborhood, you know... uh, looking like I did.”

There was a long pause.

“It’s different, ain’t it," James said. "A woman’s mouth, than a man’s.”

Steve’s cheeks were blazing with color, but he was staring at James with an open expression of lust on his face. “Yeah — yeah, it is,” he choked out.

Annie considered dying from the bisexual hotness then and there. If she died, though, it might disrupt the moment between them, so she used all of her willpower to steadfastly, quietly refrain.

James spoke again after a pause. “Okay. So — this is gonna be interestin’. It’s gonna be Annie’s wet little mouth on you. But she’s gonna do it my way, however I say.”

Steve stared, and took a deep breath. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Get your hand off that pretty dick of yours, pal. Put `em down on the couch. And keep `em there.”

Steve complied. His hands were visibly shaking as he obeyed.

“Now, Annie, honey, go ahead and put both hands on that monster cock of Stevie’s. One to control that thing for when I have you get your pretty mouth on it, and one ready to play with him however I tell you to — look at his pretty balls, they’re gonna need lots of attention too, aren’t they? Stroke those for me with one hand, honey. Show me just how tight they are right now.” She complied with his instructions as he fell into an easy, almost hypnotic patter with his orders.

“Good — they’re pretty, aren’t they?” James said. “All tight and pulled up — look how turned on he is for me already.”

“It’s for you, Buck,” Steve breathed hoarsely.

“I know it is, Stevie,” James reassured him. “Annie, I want you to get in close now and see how he smells to you, okay? Get your nose in by his sac, down by his pubes and nuzzle in a little bit, get yourself a good whiff, okay? How does he smell?”

Annie did as he directed, taking her time, then sat back slightly and looked over at him. “He’s nice and clean, daddy. Soap and fresh sweat. Lightly musky." She smelled again, then reported, “I like it.”

Steve watched this exchange slightly slack-jawed.

“Good. Now give him a nice slow lick, like a lollypop, sweetheart, root to tip. Let’s see how he likes that,” James said. “Make it nice and wet.”

Annie grinned from James to Steve, then did exactly as she was told.

Steve groaned, his hips starting to jerk a little at the move, then stilling instantly at the sharp ‘tsk’ noise that James made from across the room.

“Suck on the head, real gentle now,” James said.

Steve’s fingers gripped the upholstery of the couch.

“Look at that Stevie, you’re so big and Annie’s so little that just the fuckin’ tip looks like it’s almost enough to fill up her pretty mouth, don’t it? You work on that for a minute, just like that, sweetheart. How’s that feel, Stevie? You like that?”

“Feels g-great, Buck,” Steve stuttered.

“That’s real good, pal. You stay real still now. Annie, honey, it’s time to see how much you can get in your mouth, okay? Take your time and relax. Feel free to move Stevie’s hips a bit if you need a different angle. I want to see what you can do with this challenge, okay, sweetheart?”

Annie applied herself to the task. She stretched her jaw wide and pushed forward, gagging lightly, then relaxed into it, working Steve’s cock past the back of her palate and into her throat. Even so she was limited in how far she could get given the angle there on her knees. She couldn’t have been doing too poor a job though, because Steve was moaning above her, occasionally giving out little gasps as she worked, grabbing at the couch.

She was no slouch at this task, but even with her best efforts there was enough of his shaft unswallowed that she had her whole hand wrapped around the base. He was huge, and when she finally accepted that she simply couldn’t do any better, she pulled off and looked at James.

Steve had been making real nice noises while Annie worked, but his eyes were also fixed on James, who was watching the show avidly. James’ right hand was cupping his bulge, squeezing it lightly, but that was all the stimulation that he allowed himself.

“That’s a real good job, sweetheart," James said thickly. “Daddy is proud of you. Now, do you think that you can make him come for me?”

She nodded, and looked up at Steve, who looked back at her with flushed cheeks and slightly wild eyes.

“Daddy wants me to make you come for him, sir, so that he can see your pleasure,” Annie told him breathlessly, face covered in her own spit and his pre-cum.

Oomph. Steve’s sky blue eyes darkened for her, and his dick twitched, and she gave him a sweet smile of triumph — it was blindingly clear that the way to Captain America’s heart was through the Winter Soldier, and that little fact made Annie feel stupid with affection for both of these beautiful jerks.

“You’re real good with your mouth, honey,” Steve told her, reaching out and stroking her messy cheek, then touching her wet lower lip. “I’d love to come in you for Bucky.”

“Good,” James said firmly. “This time, Annie, you’re gonna just hold real still and relax, okay? Hands behind your back again. Stevie, I want you to watch you in control this time — you’re gonna fuck Annie’s mouth, understand? Nice and gentle at first, while you both get the hang of it.”

Annie let herself relax into those orders, settling deeply into her kneeling posture so that she could take whatever Steve gave her. She clasped her hands behind her back and was surprised when she felt James clip the cuffs together again, as she hadn’t even heard him move. Okay. She relaxed her jaw and let as much saliva as possible quickly pool in her mouth —

Steve’s huge crown was at her lips, and Annie opened as wide as she could without straining, leaning forward into an angle that would let him into her throat more easily. She let her eyes close naturally, hollowing her cheeks — Christ, that was a lot of enhanced dick thrusting gently into her mouth — but then pulling back and then pressing forward again — it was a lot, but he was going easy on her, pulling back before he even fleetingly blocked her airway. She kept pushing forward as much spit as she could to ease the way of that huge member, and relaxing her mouth and her whole jaw, wide and soft.

“There you go, Stevie. That looks like a nice rhythm,” James said. “It looks to me like Annie really knows what she’s doing. Why don’t you try giving her another inch or two of that monster and see how she takes that?”

Steve eased into that too, the bulbous head of his cock putting soft pressure on the back of her tongue, through a few gentle exploratory thrusts before he found the back of her throat.

“Nice,” James praised, his voice slightly strained. “She’s fine. You can give her a little more. Into her throat, just a little.”

Annie hummed, receptively, in part to hum through the urge to gag or cough. She breathed in as much as she still could through her nose before that, too, was cut off by the huge member gently forcing its way into the top of her throat…

Annie relaxed, letting him in.

It was a challenge — it had been a while since she’d done this, and she’d never taken a cock quite as huge as this one. And this wasn’t actually the best position for hardcore deepthroating — she could have taken him deeper on her back, with her head hanging over the arm of the couch, or even better a bed, straightening out her throat. Steve’s corona was pronounced, flared, tickling the nerves in her throat, but also — that was fucking hot.

And on the other hand, she was extraordinarily motivated by circumstance.

Steve was firm, insistent but gentle and Annie was deep, deep in subspace, hearing James’ voice talking Steve through it though she wasn’t really registering what he was saying anymore. Steve was holding her head now, genuinely fucking her face, and Annie focused everything that she was into staying pliant and soft for him, into letting him in, into staying wet and receptive in spite of how huge and invasive and overwhelming it all was —

When he came, which didn’t take long, it was a lot.

The first few spurts were truly shocking, but maybe Steve knew what to expect because he pulled gently out of her throat and then all the way out of her mouth fairly swiftly. She was swallowing as much as she could, trying to stay soft — you can’t exactly fight not to gag or cough, that’s paradoxical — and still his semen overran before he was clear and he was still spurting, more fluid coming in arcs onto her face and then her neck and tits as he pulled back.

“Jesus, Stevie,” James said, sounding awed.

Steve was breathing hard, and had moved his hand from her head — when had James even let him grab her head? —  to her shoulder, his other hand on his cock now as it continued to spurt, a little less forcefully now. He was biting his lip, fighting to get his composure back until control, and Annie panted, knowing her face was a mess as she looked from Steve to James.

James was gripping the bulge in his jeans so hard that Annie winced. He looked enraptured, almost pained by watching Steve come.

The moment stretched out as everyone struggled to get to get their breath back. Annie was surprised that the two supersoldiers seemed to be taking as long as little old unenhanced her — they sure were eye-fucking each other as they did it, that was probably part of the problem — which was when she realized that Steve was recovering but James kind of… wasn’t.

She glanced at Steve, who was starting to look worried, if the furrow in his handsome brow was anything to go by.

“Steve —” James said.

“What do you need, Buck?”

Annie looked back at James. He looked at her, and he looked, well, pale and freaked out. The way that he sometimes looked in group, when he needed to talk about something that he obviously didn’t want to talk about. And then he looked back at Steve.

“I got her, pal,” Steve said.

“I gotta go,” James said.

“That’s fine,” Steve said, sounding surprisingly steady for someone who had just come his brains out.

And then James was gone.

On a moment’s stunned reflection, Annie supposed that she wasn’t really surprised by how fast James was absent from the room. The Winter Soldier, spooked. He’d made himself a ghost. She looked up at Steve, who had already caught up, and now was gazing down at her, fondly.

“It’s okay, you know,” Steve told her. “He’s fine." He stroked her forehead. “That was just a lot for him.”

Oh. Yeah. Annie started to come back to herself and realized that she was maybe shaking a little bit?

“I’m okay?” she said. It sounded like a question. But she thought that she was smiling at Steve.

Steve smiled back at her. “I’m gonna clean you up, okay, honey? And get you some sugar? That’ll help?”

She stared up at him and thought that she was nodding, but she wasn’t sure. Whatever she did must have worked, because suddenly he was doing the sorts of things that she expected of a dom after that sort of crazy deepthroating — putting his (crazy huge) dick away, scooping her up, cleaning her face and neck and chest off with a soft warm washcloth, helping her drink something sweet. All the while he was talking to her, softly, gently, though she was barely even following what he was saying other than that all of it was reassuring.

“Is he okay?” she eventually asked. She was in Steve’s lap on the couch, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, drinking hot chocolate with his help.

Ruefully she thought that this was exactly the sort of top that Captain America would be. Social media would go crazy if they really knew.

The throatfucking through? She maybe hadn’t seen that part coming.

“Bucky’s fine,” Steve said, stroking her shoulder. “I think he just really, really needed to get off himself in a way that he didn’t see coming, and he wasn’t ready to do that in front of either of us yet.”

She nestled into Steve’s lap. “Oh. Well, maybe it’s a good sign that he knew we’d be okay if he had to bounce? Like, he trusts us? You more than me, obviously. Or… maybe you, to take care of me?”

Steve seemed to think about what an honest answer would be. “Me, to take care of you,” he agreed carefully. “But… also you, a little more each time.”

She finished her hot chocolate and handed him the cup.

“I think I’m ready to go home now,” she said. She didn’t know what James was going to be dealing with after getting off, but somehow she thought that maybe Steve was better qualified to deal with that than she was. The new collar had already been a lot for her.

“I’ll walk you,” Steve said, sounding comfortable, reinforcing her idea that this was the right decision for all of them.

Steve was the one to take the new collar and cuffs off of her, and Annie reflected on the fact that that felt right as well — James had been funny and wry, but clear, about sharing his authority and the giving of this lovely gift with Steve and his oversight. If Steve Roger’s watchful eye was what made James feel safe taking Annie on, then Annie was clear about accepting the two supersoldiers as part and parcel, and she was soft and respectful with Steve the same exact way that she would have been with James as he removed each cuff and then the collar. Steve was exquisitely tender with her in turn, in a way that Annie was sure was reflective of how he felt about James, who’d put the collar around her neck. Polyamory might not have been a thing in the nineteen-forties, but she was tickled to discover how deeply these soldier boys seemed to instinctively grasp the principles.

They were both quiet as Steve brought Annie the crate with her clothes and Annie re-dressed herself.

The walk back to her building was equally pensive, but comfortably so. It wasn’t until they were all the way back at her door that either of them seemed to have anything more to say.

Their eyes finally met again as she was pulling out her key.

“Look, Annie… I’m just so grateful to you,” Steve blurted. “And he’s just so grateful to you.”

Chapter Text

Steve felt himself blush yet again — damn his Irish coloring — as he blurted the words out inelegantly. They didn’t exactly sound the way that he meant them to. It was just that — he didn’t want to miss his chance to express what he most wanted to say to this dame. To make sure that she knew, in spite of Bucky’s abrupt and somewhat awkward exit tonight.

Annie paused on her doorstep and looked at him with soft eyes that made him think that, yes, maybe she understood. Or kind of understood?

“Steve — that’s nice,” Annie said. “Thank you.”

Then she hesitated. “Look — I’m glad you and James aren’t taking me for granted. But you know that  — that goes both ways… well, all ways, right? I mean — I’m grateful too?”

Steve huffed in amusement. “Grateful to be bossed around and made to — well?”

“Yes.”

They stood there for a moment, him clearly befuddled, and her with a look of amused exasperation on her face.

“Look — hey, will you come inside for a minute, okay, Steve? I want to talk for a minute. Okay?”

“Err… I don’t want to impose?”

“You’re not imposing. I just invited you. Come inside.”

She led him into the kitchen, and fished a couple of beers out of her fridge and handed him one. Then she led him to the dining room and pointed at the table.

“Sit down.”

“You give the orders now?” he asking, jokingly.

“When needed,” she replied seriously. “Now sit down.” For a weird moment, did this subby girl remind him of Peggy? Did that make sense?

Steve sat down, bemused.

“So, you’re grateful, and James is grateful,” Annie said, sitting down across from him.

“Well… yeah,” Steve said, awkwardly. “I mean… obviously.”

“Okay, that’s good. But what I want you to realize is that, so am I. That’s why this all works.”

Steve cleared his throat and picked at the label on his bottle of beer. “Well, but… I guess I don’t get why you’d be grateful? I mean — you’re the one who — you know. Is submissive. On your knees and stuff. And — you know.”

“Choking on cock?” she supplied dryly.

He flushed but didn’t look down. “Yes. Okay. That.”

She sighed. “Okay, let me try to explain. You realize there’s, like, a whole community built around this stuff, that I used to be a part of, when I belonged to my former master.”

“Yes.”

“Well, there are a bunch of new ideas that you get exposed to when you join that community, which is good. One of them is the idea that submission in particular is, like, a gift. Kind of like what you’re implying. That doms should be super grateful that subs are willing to submit to them.”

“Yes! Exactly,” Steve said. “See? That’s all I mean. Having you around has done so much for Bucky. You know, he’s started touching me again. I mean —” another blush “— just casually. Around the house. That’s since you. Because of you.”

Annie nodded, smiling. “Yeah? That’s great. Great to hear. I’m glad.”

Steve studied her. “But? There’s more to it?”

Annie’s smile grew warmer. “That’s right. I see why you were at the head of the class.”

“Okay. So why are you grateful, then, for doing stuff that most people would see as — well…” Steve trailed off. “I guess that’s the rub, huh?”

She nodded. “Yeah. ‘Most people’ — think that getting to boss someone around sounds awesome, and getting bossed around sounds shitty — right?”

Steve nodded slowly. “But obviously it’s not that simple. Which I guess I should know, as a guy who kind of famously repeatedly broke the law to enlist in the military and take other guys’ orders, huh?”

“Well, you didn’t want to do that for funsies the way that I do, but yeah, the parallel is still valid. So… were you grateful for the chance to serve when you finally got it?”

Steve’s expression cleared. “Yeah. Of course I was,” he said, firmly.

“Yeah. You were.”

She let that sit for a moment.

“You know,” she elaborated, after a moment, “when I met my master, I was pretty young, and outwardly I was very accomplished — I did excellently in school, had amazing friends, had mostly dated great people before him, my early career was going well. What was not necessarily outwardly visible was how much I struggled at home with things around taking care of myself the way most people had figured out. I was helpless around feeding myself, my sleep routines were bizarre, I got no exercise, and — this part is embarrassing — but even my hygiene was secretly way more inconsistent than you would have thought of someone like me. One of the things that I loved about belonging to someone else was the structure. When someone else tells me to be reasonable about those things, it’s easy, and kind of hot. Leave me on my own, and I’m just — a moron. Or I was back then, anyway.”

Steve glanced around the apartment, which was neat, and nicely if minimally furnished in subdued colors and patterns. “What about now?”

She chuckled. “Looks pretty normal, right? Well, over the years I did slowly figure out what the issues were that made those things so hard for me. When my master died, I was a mess, obviously. But for the last year or so I’ve known that I could have figured that stuff out for myself — it was a comfort to let Deja keep handling most of it for me, though. A way to avoid having to really face that he was gone and I really could take care of myself now.”

Steve was listening with a compassionate look, and she sighed.

“Until a month ago. I realized that James was interested in me — as a friend… or, or as something else. Then that first date went the way it did — he decided to do what he did with the authority that I offered him. And I realized how interested in me he might be. And then — I realized that it was time for me to put into action all of that knowledge about myself that I’d slowly accumulated over the years, and take care of myself the way that everyone else does.”

Steve gave her a gentle smile. “The place looks nice. You seem good.”

She grinned. “It’s okay, right? You know, it’s all been — it’s been fine, actually. And you know what? It was how badly I wanted to be ready for whatever it was that James wanted me for that made me decide that it was time. That I want him to have better than some kind of mess, or some kind of child. Like he wants you, and I, to have better than someone who can’t touch.”

Steve thought about it a moment.

“So — you love serving, so you’re grateful for it.”

“Yes,” she agreed.

“And you’re also grateful for what it brings out of you to want to be your best self — to be worthy of it in your own eyes, and for the person who you want to serve.”

“Yes. That’s right. That’s why I’m as grateful to kneel as you and James are to have me kneel. Regardless of whatever ‘most people’ would feel about either.”

Steve cleared his throat. “Sorry. What ‘most people’ think about any of this is obviously irrelevant.”

“Good. We agree.”

He huffed in amusement, finishing his beer. “You know, there’s a lot of things that ‘most people’ think they know about Captain America that are mistaken.”

“I… have figured that out, yes. It’s good to know.”

“So… I — I think I get you. This thing is — it’s a two-way street. I guess a three-way street — what is that called? A two-way street between three people? I feel like my metaphor is failing me here, Annie. You know what I mean. You don’t want to feel like this is built on some kind of misguided indebtedness, because it’s not. I gotta respect that you’re here because you’re an adult who’s getting something out of it, not because you’re some besotted, starry-eyed fan who’s been swept away and we’re taking advantage of you and you’re too dumb to know it.”

“That’s — yeah, that’s right. I think you got it, Steve.”

He put his bottle down on the table. “You’re a hell of a girl, Annie. Woman? Sorry. I meant woman.”

“That’s a good catch. But also, you actually still get to say ‘girl’ with me. That’s a sub thing.”

“Oh! Right. I guess that makes sense. Well, that’s nice. So you can be a hell of a girl to me, if I’ve choked you on my dick?” He blushed as he said it, but still managed a semblence of cocky with his delivery.

“Now you’ve got it!” she told him, pleased. “You can call me that indeed, and well you should. You deserve the right, after how cock-stupid you made this slut tonight, sir,” she told him, flirtily, standing up and collecting both of their empty bottles and carrying them off to the sink as she did.

Steve blinked after her.

“Wow,” he said, standing slowly, looking so befuddled that she had to laugh.

“You really think James is okay?” she said as she walked with Steve back to the front door at a leisurely pace, bumping up against him in a friendly way as they went.

He put his arm around her. “Yeah. I know he ran off real fast, but I saw his face as he went. He was just panicking `cause he didn’t want to loose his cool in front of you. He’d just gonna be real sheepish next time you talk to him, you’ll see.”

“That’s kinda cute. The big bad Winter Soldier.”

Steve snorted.

At the front door, Steve turned to her and put his hands on his shoulders.

“Well, thanks for the talk, honey. You’ve been one hell of an education, you know that?”

“Well, likewise. I’ve learned many fun and important facts about World War Two history that perverts around the world have speculated about for seventy years, you know.”

Steve laughed at that.

“Happily you can trust me to keep them all to myself,” she said, hugging him tight around his tree-trunk-like torso.

“That’s good. `Cause clearly Buck and I are keeping you all to ourselves,” he responded,” kissing her on the forehead.